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My aformentioned ex, while we were still together, giving me a printed black t-shirt for my birthday.

We got it from a shop that catered for goth / alternative types but was run by a small middle-aged man who didn’t really know or personally care much about an alternative scene. (As I remember the dream, he reminds me a bit of the Engineer from Miss Saigon.) I tried to wear the t-shirt that night when we went out clubbing, but even as I was doing my makeup to go out, it started to come apart at the seams.

We took it straight back to the shop for a replacement but the guy, having served us just hours earlier, denied memory of us and wouldn’t refund or directly replace. He tried to fob me off by getting me to choose from some other, much less expensive items.

Eventually I negotiated to get a selection of small gifts to roughly compensate the value of the t-shirt. To find anything that took my fancy, I’d had to go through obscure boxes and shelves, delving further than the average customer might. I found a tiny book of (metaphysical?) poetry, bound in pale cream leather. Quite a precious find, to be fair, discarded with no sense of its value. Otherwise, I just got some bits of tat so unmemorable they haven’t made it to awake-mind, and – wtfsubconscious? – a massive bottle of lube.

I’m reading A Monster Calls, Patrick Ness’ down-to-earth fantasy for young adults, about a boy who’s being haunted by a recurring nightmare, and an anthropomorphic tree that visits him at night.

Conor’s mum is dying, and every night he dreams of trying to hold on to her hand while she dangles off the edge of a precipice. Until along comes a yew tree in the shape of a man-monster, uprooted from the nearby churchyard, to tell Conor three stories and demand just one truth in return.

Author Siobhan Dowd created the concept for A Monster Calls when she, herself, had terminal cancer. Knowing she wouldn’t live long enough to write the book, she passed the idea on to Patrick Ness, who completed it after Siobhan’s monster has visited for the last time.

Ness uses Conor’s nightmares to explore the secret, unspeakable truths of how it feels to be losing the person closest to you. Guilty, rageful feelings that Conor would rather risk his own life than admit to.

So after reading this profoundly important tale of love and loss, imagination and rage, what does my mind come up with?

…I dreamt that I was applying mascara, and couldn’t keep from getting black scuff marks on my upper eyelid.

Really subconscious?

I mean, as nightmares go, I’ve had worse.

Thoroughly disappointed with my own apparent lack of depth or real sensitivity, I started getting ready for the new day. And reaching for my mascara wand, I saw this: